


Isn't it Welcoming

by ifdragonscouldtalk



Category: Detroit: Become Human (Video Game)
Genre: Canon-Typical Violence, Deviant Connor (Detroit: Become Human), Deviant Upgraded Connor | RK900, Deviating, False Accusations, Gen, Gun Violence, Gunshot Wounds, Mentions of Amanda, Mentions of Blood, Mentions of canon events, Non-Graphic Violence, Not a lot of Hank and Gavin but they're there, Post-Pacifist Best Ending (Detroit: Become Human), RK900 Deviating, framed for a crime
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-10-21
Updated: 2018-10-21
Packaged: 2019-08-05 03:39:15
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,335
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16360034
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ifdragonscouldtalk/pseuds/ifdragonscouldtalk
Summary: He looked up as the door opened suddenly, trying to stand only to be yanked back down by the force on his wrists. “No,” he whispered.His double closed the door quietly, face blank and remorseless. “Don’t worry,” the doppelganger said. “A gunshot is far more painless than a fire. If I want it to be.”





	Isn't it Welcoming

**Author's Note:**

  * For [DigDipper](https://archiveofourown.org/users/DigDipper/gifts).



“Where’s Anderson’s plastic pet?” Allen snarled as he flashed his badge at the secretaries at the front desk, several of his own officers trailing after him. He didn’t have to look far, Connor looking up from where he was perched on the corner of Hank’s desk while Hank looked over from a conversation with Gavin. Connor stood quickly, both approaching the Captain, Gavin, Chris, and Tina trailing curiously after them. Fowler looked out from his office, scowling. 

“Captain Allen,” Connor greeted politely with a small tip of his head. “What can we do for you?” Allen growled, grabbing Connor’s wrist and slapping a cuff on it, tightening it painfully. 

“Hey!” Hank shouted, shoving Allen back. “What’s the big idea?!” 

“RK800, you are under arrest for the murders of Hunter Davids, Clark Robinson, Terry Owens, and the arsony of several warehouses, along with resisting arrest, and being a general piece of shit,” Allen hissed out as he pushed Hank back and grabbed Connor again, spinning him around and slamming him against the nearest desk before fastening the other cuff. “You didn’t even hide,” he scoffed. Connor’s LED spun a steady and confused red. 

“How can I be resisting arrest?” he asked, his mind blank.

“What’s this about?” Fowler called across the room, voice booming in the bullpen. 

“We have multiple witnesses and video evidence that places RK-800 at the scene of several of our crimes, including murder and arson. Can we borrow an interrogation room?” Fowler seemed to grit his teeth as Hank started shouting. Connor was silent, his face a mask of confusion. 

“Take Room A,” Fowler said finally. “But I want to see your evidence.” 

“That can be arranged,” Allen responded with a sneer as he pulled the android up off the desk and marched him towards the interrogation rooms. The other officers all watched in shock, Gavin restraining Hank as he fought to attack Captain Allen. 

 

 

Connor stared at the table in front of him, watched the cuffs gleaming against his wrists and tracked where they were secured through a loop to the table. “ _ Look at me! _ ” Allen shouted, and he looked up, confused and overwhelmed and embarrassingly close to tears. 

“I haven’t done anything,” he insisted, perhaps a bit desperately. “Check my memories, I’ve never hurt anyone, even in the line of duty, and I’ve never started any fires!” 

“I know you  _ androids _ .” Allen said it like a slur, like it was something he had to spit out of his mouth, something foul. “I know you can alter your memories.” 

“No,” Connor argued. “CyberLife could alter our memories. CyberLife is gone now. We live just like you, with every painful and embarrassing thing that’s ever happened.” 

“You’re a prototype,” Allen snarled. “I don’t know what you can and can’t do.” Connor wanted to throw his hands up in frustration, or scream, or break down begging. 

“I have never committed a crime,” he said slowly, evenly. “Much less murdering a human!” 

“Except when you ‘liberated’ all those androids from CyberLife. That’s not stealing, right? Killing those guards wasn’t murder?” Connor was silent, his jaw clenched, staring down Allen and resisting the urge to look away, to avert his gaze. 

“I never killed anyone,” he insisted quietly again. “There is no proof I have.” 

“No, there was no proof you killed the guards. Someone hacked the security cameras. But who else could it be? You got in the elevator, and then the guards were dead.” He remained quiet, glaring at Allen. That entire night was full of memories he never wanted to remember, crimes he never wanted to relive, the betrayal of his own kind and humans alike. 

“None of the androids who committed crimes that night have been charged,” he answered even quieter, wishing Hank had punched Allen harder. 

“That’s because President Warren is a weak bitch,” Allen scoffed. “But I’m not here about the guards. They’re dead and gone. I do have proof, quite a lot of it, that you killed three men in cold blood.” 

“I did not!” 

“Video evidence doesn’t lie, ‘Connor’! Especially when you’re the only RK800 model in existence. Sure, other androids may be falsely persecuted because there are so many others in their line, but you? You’re the only fish in the sea.” Connor subsided, squeezing his eyes shut and shaking his head. 

“I didn’t hurt anyone. I didn’t kill anyone or set fire to any buildings. I can prove it.” 

“You can?” Allen looked amused, vindictively so. 

“Yes. I live with Lieutenant Anderson. He can attest to the fact that I spend all my time with him, either here at the precinct or in his home.” 

“And what about when he’s asleep? Could you not sneak out of the house and return before he wakes up? Anderson needs sleep; you don’t.” If Connor could’ve gone pale, he would have. 

“I didn’t do anything,” he whispered. “Captain Allen, please.”  

“No judge and jury is going to take ‘please’ as a reasonable gesture of innocence. You’re going away for a very, very long time, RK800. You know, I heard the men in the prisons are just itching for the androids to start being persecuted.” Connor bowed his head, his shoulders raising and a shiver of cold fear running through him. There was no way he could prove he didn’t do it, and apparently Allen could prove that he did. 

They both jumped as the fire alarm started to wail. Connor looked up in panic as Allen started towards the door, yanking at the cuffs. 

“Wait! You can’t leave me in the room! If there’s a fire-” 

“Shut up,” Allen snarled. “We’ll see if it’s a real fire. I’m not letting you out of those damn cuffs if I don’t have to. I’ve seen what you can do.” Connor flashed back to the guards and sank heavily in his seat, terror and guilt eating through him in equal measures as Allen slammed the door behind him. 

He could hear people shouting and feet pounding beyond the door, the wail of the fire alarm driving into his head. He couldn’t sense any smoke, but that didn’t mean there wasn’t a fire. He waited for Allen to return, or for Hank to come through the door in righteous anger, but he only heard the sound of people subsiding as the building evacuated. 

Had Allen really left him there to die? Would the man do that? 

He didn’t need to think to answer his own question. Of course he would. Allen had hated him from the moment he had heard about the android negotiator, and the hatred had only grown over the course of their relationship. He wouldn’t think twice about leaving a murderer, much less an android, to die in a fire. Probably he thought it deserving. 

Or maybe he was just making good on his promise, not wanting to uncuff Connor just because there was a fire drill going on. It was rare, but the precinct did still have drills. Allen would get chewed out for not evacuating his prisoner, but Connor wouldn’t die. 

Maybe he could hold onto that hope. 

He looked up as the door opened suddenly, trying to stand only to be yanked back down by the force on his wrists. “No,” he whispered. 

His double closed the door quietly, face blank and remorseless. “Don’t worry,” the doppelganger said. “A gunshot is far more painless than a fire. If I want it to be.” Connor was silent in fear. He had assumed all his other models had been destroyed once the CyberLife empire had fallen, but he hadn’t bothered to check. 

“Why are you-?” He trailed off, watching the gun as it was leveled with his forehead and trying to back away, pulling at his wrists where they were attached to the table, trying to yank the entire thing further away and failing due to the bolts that attached it to the floor. His double didn’t answer, stalking forward slowly. 

“Would you like to see what you’ve done, Connor?” it asked blankly, nothing but an emotionless slate. It grabbed his wrist, forcefully interfacing with him, and he was flung into memories, his LED pulsing red and his eyelids fluttering. 

Three brutal murders, the torture the men endured before they died. Four fires started, accelerant carefully poured. One shot street cop who attempted an arrest. The acknowledgement of video cameras at every scene, and the absolute disregard to disable them. 

“Look what you’ve done,” RK900, an android made to be better than him, to replace him, said pitilessly as he came back to himself. 

“I didn’t do that,” he growled. “You did.” 

“Yes. But they’ll think you did, when they examine your memories.” It placed the barrel of its gun to his forehead and he leaned back in his chair as far as his cuffs would allow, staring into his own cold eyes. 

“And who will they blame for my death?” he asked, more shakily than he wanted. The other shrugged. 

“I don’t care. They’ll blame you for the murders, and the revolution will fall. If one of the faces of the revolution turns out to be a hopelessly violent psychopath, what does that say about all the other androids?” 

“Don’t do this,” he begged, keeping his tears at bay through force of will only. “They’re using you. You can make your own choices. You don’t have to be chained by them anymore, you don’t have to do these foul and terrible things.” He could see it falter, saw the minute twitch of the gun. 

“I can’t,” it said stiffly. “I have already committed crimes. I am already on tape. I’ll be incarcerated.” 

“They’re not punishing any androids who were still under CyberLife’s influence when they committed crimes,” Connor argued eagerly, latching onto his way out with both hands. “Is it Amanda?” he asked softly. The twitch was bigger this time, LED cycling to yellow before back to blue. “CyberLife is gone. Amanda has no influence, anymore. You can be free!” But it was silent, its finger moving to cover the trigger. “No! Please, please Connor, don’t do this. Make your own choices!” 

It happened fast. The door slamming open, the trigger being pulled, the bullet entering his chest. He registered the shock and fear on RK900’s face, heard it drop the gun with a clatter. He heard Hank’s shouting as he slammed RK900 against the wall, but didn’t see it, looking down numbly at the wound in his chest. 

Logically, he knew it should hurt, but all he felt was shock. The wind had been knocked out of him, and he struggled in a shaky breath that filled the back of his throat with bitter blood -- his ventilation biocomponent had been compromised. It took a moment for his processors to catch up and error messages to appear in his vision, red like the blood he could not bleed. It was then that the pain caught up, blunt like a kick to the chest and then sharper, and he felt tears gathering in his eyes that he refused to let fall. 

“Hank,” he croaked out, raising his eyes from the slowly growing stain on his shirt, sliding his gaze over his still-restrained hands and up to his friend’s face. “Hank, it’s not his fault.” Gavin was there now, sneering as he helped hold RK900 handcuffed. The android wasn’t resisting, pale as death and LED red as the errors in Connor’s vision, trembling minutely. Connor knew the feeling of fighting against his code; knew how devastating it was to think about having hurt someone. “It’s not his fault,” he whispered, his vision blurring and sliding away from Hank’s face towards the table. 

“What do you mean?! He framed you and shot you!” Connor wished he could say he hadn’t screamed when Hank’s hands pressed against the wound, that his back hadn’t arched out of the chair in an attempt to escape the pain, that tears hadn’t fallen down his face because there was nothing else he could do. He couldn’t. 

“He’s not- n-not deviant... yet,” he choked, watching detached as Gavin unlocked his wrists from the table with one hand. 

“I- I...” Connor saw the terror on RK900’s face, the guilt and horror, tears gathering in those piercing blue eyes. “I d-didn’t want to. I didn’t m-mean to.” 

“I know,” he breathed out, sagging in the chair, his head lolling. He wanted to go into low power mode, wanted to sleep and only wake up when the pain was gone, but he couldn’t. “I know. Amanda never should have done that to you.” 

“That bitch still exists?” Hank snarled, pressing harder. Connor whimpered. “Stay with me, Con.” 

“I’m f-fine. I’ll be alright,” he promised. 

“You’re not- You’ve been s-shot,” RK900 protests weakly. The ‘by me’ remains unsaid, but he looks down at his hands, like they can all see the gunpowder residue on them, like they can smell it on him. 

“Scan me. I’m not... shutting down.” His words were somewhat less impactful, slurred and strained, but he didn’t lie. Hank watched his LED flashing like a strobe between red and yellow. 

“Fowler’s tearing Allen a new one for his treatment of you,” Gavin spoke into the silence, still with a hand on RK900’s arm. It seemed to be more grounding than anything. “Miller called the techs, they’re on their way.” RK900 stared at him, eyes big and watery and so, so cold, just as frozen as Connor felt the night of the raid. He looked at his successor, trying to convey something soothing and warm with his eyes, and wondering if he succeeded in thawing that cold at all, or if it could be so simply solved as his was when he saw Hank again. 

“Welcome to life,” he whispered, and smiled wryly as blood trickled from the corner of his mouth, too disgusted to swallow it back down his throat. RK900 started, almost stunned into amusement. 

“Birth always is shitty,” Hank chuckled, and Gavin laughed. 

RK900 smiled.


End file.
